


Turn On the Radio

by Flannigan



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flannigan/pseuds/Flannigan
Summary: They can't afford to feel pain nor exhaustion. Casimiro takes care of Finas who can't ignore it any longer.





	Turn On the Radio

**Author's Note:**

> This is a filled prompt from my tumblr, www.it-s-blue-ink.tumblr.com, come by and say hi

Casimiro hated this radio station. Though he’d pay whatever he had left if it never stopped playing. The music kept him from thinking. Kept everything from spilling over. They can’t afford it, not now.

He was on his side on a threadbare mattress beneath a broken window that let in both the music from the floor above, and a ray of sunlight on the far wall. At his back Finas pushed against him, squeezed into the space between Casimiro’s body and the wall.

Shit. He’s awake again.

“Go back to sleep. It’s still daylight,” he whispered.

Finas didn’t even sigh.

Casimiro fidgeted with a loose string to the beat of the music.

Yes, I know it hurts, he thought. He shouldn’t- mustn’t vocalize comforting words, it would only escalate things. Could only think them as loud he could, and hope Finas would hear.

He didn’t understand vampire hunters who came after them like they had no other purpose in life. They hadn’t done anything to them. Is it a crime to want to live? Wasn’t he supposed to be the monster?

His fingers tore through the ratty mattress as every bruise and cut flared alight with pain all at once. Their blades had to be laced with something. If only he knew what. His eyes stung. No. The music. The notes. Focus. Anything but the present.

The music abruptly stopped. He flinched, jerking out a ball of stuffing. No, no _onono_. The silence was deafening. He tensed up, behind him Finas curled up, his knees striking the wall with a thud.

It wasn’t very noticeable when Finas’ shoulders started shaking. Just noticeable enough.

He closed his eyes hard. Please go back to sleep. Just sleep. We can’t do this now. Now is not the time to fall apart, he thought, as if that was something you could choose to do.

He waited, and Finas didn’t stop. Opposite to Casimiro’s hope, he escalated. Like being ignored made it worse, because that’s what he was doing, and they both knew it.

Casimiro took a slow breath and rolled over. Finas bit the first knuckle on his fist, trying to hide his face. When he put his hand on his shoulder Finas tried to make himself even smaller. He rubbed up and down his arm a moment.

“Casimiro,” Finas began.

“Go back to sleep,” he interrupted, “Close your eyes.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair, untangling the parts still clumped together by dried blood.

Finas pulled in a sharp breath, trembled for a second.

“Stop it,” Casimiro chided sharply. Finas pushed back against him, made a noise close to a whimper that cut off when he forced his breathing to stop. He nodded, biting into his fist and started to bleed.

Casimiro told him to stop it again, and pulled it away by the wrist, but Finas bit through his lower lip instead. With a sigh he fit his legs under his thighs, propped his head up with one arm and combed through his hair with the other.

He whispered of his plans for the next night, where they might go. Speculated how many hands he’d need to grease to make the bastards at their heels keel over and die. Didn’t want Finas to reply. It was noise for the silence. Distraction from the hurting.

It took several long minutes of this slow motion and hushed voice until Finas began to relax, laid still against him and breathed again.

Casimiro had figured out how to handle his moods, how to be soft enough to not break him, just enough to make him last moment to moment. They couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, not even with each other, not with so many ‘righteous’ vampire hunters on their trail.

He lost track of time, running his fingers from his temple and smoothed down and ruffled up his tousled hair as he felt like. Occasionally he heard Finas draw in breath and whisper, but he never continued beyond his name and two or three words. Casimiro never prodded him to continue.

It was with sigh of relief he realized Finas had gone back to sleep. For now. Hoped it would last longer this time, and give him the strength to numb himself. Even that had been spent in their recent trial.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the side of his head. Had to stop himself from wrapping around him and take him in a crushing hold like he wanted to, from continuing to stroke his hair and risk waking him up. Maybe if he thought it hard enough, loud enough, he’d still feel it.

He rolled back over, placed his hands under his head and watched the shadows passing under the crack of the door, wishing the lousy radio would play again.


End file.
